Visions

by James C. Glass

  Tel’s heart froze. Bury her dead?

  The footsteps were below her again, light moving across the ceiling. She held her breath as the light stopped, moving around in a circle, then forward again towards the grotto. A moment later it flickered out, plunging her into blackness. She kept her mind blank for several minutes, dozed again, but the thought of climbing down the wall in darkness jolted her awake. She felt around a long time until she found the crack, listening for voices, hearing them loud, quickly fading to nothing. Silence lasted an eternity. They could be waiting quietly for her to come out. But it must now be morning, and Hidaig would surely spare no warriors as cave guards during the attack. Her risk was calculated.

  Slowly, steadily, she climbed down the crack to the tunnel floor, and picked up a fist-sized pebble for a hand weapon. Soon she was at the grotto, looking down at it from the ceiling.

  Anka was not there. His sleeping furs were in disarray. She listened carefully, heart pounding, then dropped feet first into the grotto, and peered along the short tunnel to the great cavern.

  Someone was lying on the cavern floor.

  Haltingly, she crawled out of the grotto, and looked around. The cavern was empty, warriors and bodies of the old ones gone. But in front of her lay the broken and bloodied form of her life-mate. She hurried to him, leaning over to touch his mutilated face, blood trickling from his mouth. His eyelids fluttered, opened, amber eyes showing recognition. He opened his mouth to speak, but all that came out was a horrible gurgle.

  “Oh, dear heart, what have they done to you?”

  Anka managed a weak smile, then gurgled again.

  “I think they have killed me,” he said.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  WATCHERS

  It was daylight when Baela was startled awake by her mother’s moans. She looked over at the thrashing form on the bed next to hers, certain that moments before she had heard her grandmother’s name shouted in the room. Baela herself felt vaguely uneasy, an uncomfortable frightening feeling of emptiness, then sorrow, then nothing, as if a piece of her mind had been suddenly cut away. She sat up abruptly, looking around at the sleeping forms, then at her mother, whose eyes were now open, face glistening.

  “Mother, what’s wrong?” whispered Baela.

  Da stared at her a moment, still returning from sleep, blinking her eyes twice and licking her lips. “I had a terrible dream about Mother. She called to me, and it was like she was in shadow, reaching out at me. I tried to touch her, but something pulled her back into darkness, and then I felt—no, I feel like I’ve lost her. I feel like I’ll never see her again.”

  “She’s in the cave, Mother.”

  “I know. It was a dream, Baela—only a dream. Go back to sleep, now.” Da closed her eyes.

  Baela sat quietly for a moment, listening to her mother’s breathing slow and deepen. All the others were asleep, and here she was, wide-awake, instantly bored. She sat on the edge of the bed, swinging her legs and waiting for the dull feeling to come and tell her to sleep some more, but it didn’t come, and then she heard a door slam at the big house a hundred paces away. Someone else was awake! She’d slept in her clothes: jeans and a thin, white blouse with tiny, yellow flowers on it. Shoes and socks she had taken off, already deciding not to like shoes because they strangled her feet. She tip-toed bare-footed to the door, and let herself out into the vastness of her new world, the big house and grass before her tinted orange as the orb of the sun peered over the edge of a nearby hill. She marveled at the sudden warmth as the fiery ball lifted into full view, and she was immediately thirsty.

  Baela watched Bernie carry a box from the house, put it in the back of Pegre’s wagon, then go back inside. In a moment she reappeared with a cloth satchel, and Pegre was behind her, a long pointing weapon in one hand. These items also went into the wagon, while Baela watched silently, bothered by the sight of a weapon in her teacher’s hand.

  They saw her as they turned to go back into the house. Pegre waved, and Bernie gestured at her to come inside with them. “Breakfast is on the table!” she shouted, while behind her Pegre smiled, pointed first to his mouth and then to the house. Baela understood, and trotted happily through tall grass to reach them, arriving smiling and a little out of breath.

  “Mornin’, Darlin’,” said Bernie, and then to Pegre, “You think we might have one who looks like that? Bounces through the grass like a young deer.” She put an arm around Baela’s shoulders. “Hot cakes and sausage this morning. We need to fatten you up a bit.”

  They went inside to another table filled with food. Pegre and his mate had already been eating. Bernie bustled around the kitchen, and plunked a full plate in front of the girl, delighted by the hungry look on her face. Coyly, Baela mimicked everything Pegre did with knife and fork, buttering her hotcakes, pouring syrup, carefully cutting a piece and putting it slowly into her mouth. Pegre laughed at her expression when she tasted the sweetness. He laughed again when she tasted the sausage, delicious, but stinging the inside of her mouth.

  “Everything’s new,” said Pegre.

  “Do you like it, Baela?” asked Bernie.

  Baela nodded vigorously, mouth filled with food.

  “Good. There’s plenty more, now; you just ask.” But then Bernie’s smile faded, and she looked at Pegre, who Baela had learned was called Peter or Pete by the Hinchai. “When’re they coming over?”

  “Any minute. The plan is to get back by dark, but it didn’t work out that way last time. I really don’t expect to find anything.”

  “All those men, and all those guns. I don’t like it, Peter. I’ve got an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach about the whole day.”

  “Baby’s kickin’ again.” Pegre smiled.

  “Baby’s fine, and not long in comin’. I want him to meet his father, so don’t you go gettin’ yourself shot out there. If these are hill people you’re after, they’ll go to ground in daylight, and you’ll never see ’em.”

  “Don’t have to. We’ll have four dogs with us. They followed a track clear to the creek, but we’ve got to pick it up again. It’s only a mile from here, Bernie.”

  “Everybody goin’? Jake, too?”

  “Yeah, everybody.”

  “Great. Every woman in town is left alone today.”

  “I’m sure the people we’re after skipped our area yesterday.” Pegre looked at Baela, knowing she sensed his lie even though her understanding of English was still poor. She was leaning over her plate, chewing thoughtfully.

  “You’re not back by dark, I get the women together, and we come lookin’ for you. I can handle a shotgun as well as any man, Peter.”

  Pegre reached over, and touched his mate’s chin. “Okay, okay. We’ll be back by dark. Anything happens here, you lock yourself in the house, and use the shotgun. Don’t forget our guests in the bunkhouse, and upstairs. Several of them can give any man a good fight.”

  Bernie was silent for a moment, but Baela could feel and smell her fear, now, detecting a sudden unease of her own, a sort of apprehension that remained after she left the table. She helped Bernie wash the dishes and utensils at the sink, drying each piece as she had regularly done with simpler things for her parents in the cavern. Pegre went outside to wait, and in a short while they heard the rattling and clop-clop of wagons and horses pulling into the yard while Pegre directed traffic to parking places. Bernie sped up the washing, then wiped her hands and left the house while Baela finished her drying chore.

  One wagon was parked close to the house, and in the back were four huge dogs, sleek, black coats and lolling tongues. The men were heavily armed and grim-looking, different from the scene of the welcome the night before. Some of them waved to Baela when they saw her standing by the window, and so she went out on the porch for a closer look. When she got there, the dogs took one look at her and started barking furiously, deep-throated sounds that turned into moans and then howls until one of the men stepped up to the wagon and screamed right into their faces. The
howls became whimpers as Baela nervously stood her ground, knowing the animals sensed she didn’t belong there, that she was one of those they searched for. Likely it was the basic Tenanken diet that produced a unique flesh odor the dogs could smell even at a distance. With time, it would disappear, and for now she was safe. She wondered what Hidaig and his band would feel like when the dogs were on their heels. From two nights before, she knew what it was like to be the hunted.

  The men piled back into the wagons, Pegre getting in with the hawk-faced man she knew as Jake. Baela saw kindness and sadness in the slender man’s eyes, noticed the way he looked all around after seeing her on the porch. It occurred to her that he was searching for the Tenanken female called Diana, the one he had hovered around during the welcome just hours before. She was surprised at how quickly a bond was forming, for Tenanken males were traditionally aloof around females, carefully choosing their mates on the basis of hearth skills rather than feelings or emotions. These often came later, as with her own parents, who had become quite close only after her birth, and now often coupled for the pure pleasure of it.

  Bernie went to the wagon, and kissed Pegre as reins snapped and drivers yelled, the vehicles pulling out of the yard and moving slowly in a line up the dirt tracks towards the hill. Soon they had disappeared beyond the trees, and there was silence. Bernie came back on the porch, eyes welling up with tears, and putting an arm around Baela’s shoulders. “Wish he wouldn’t have gone with ’em today. Don’t know why, but I’ve still got a bad feelin’ about this whole day.”

  They stood and watched the trees for a moment, then went back inside as the first Tenanken adults emerged sleepy-eyed from the bunkhouse to feel the sunlight on their faces.

  * * * * * * *

  Maki waited anxiously on the ledge, surrounded by warriors who had brought him quickly outside when Tel’s attempted signal fire had been discovered. He was afraid for his mother, though he knew her cleverness was underestimated because she was female. He knew also that she was an experienced wanderer of the cavern mazes. She could blank her mind well, and if determined not to be found she would not be found. But her foolishness had only incurred Hidaig’s anger, accomplishing nothing and again putting her own son in an awkward, dangerous position. Obviously, Hidaig had decided to take power for himself, but he lacked both the intellect and spiritual presence to be Keeper. Maki still hoped that Hidaig would accept his usefulness in coaxing support of the conquered band for their new leader if the son of their old one were made spiritual advisor and Keeper of The Memories. From this base he could be patient, for the day would come when a devoted follower would slit Hidaig’s throat, and all power would be his. For the moment, he would bide his time and survive. But he feared for his mother—and his father, feeling nothing coming from them.

  Kretan emerged from the cavern, Hidaig close behind. Both glared at Maki.

  “Have you found her?” Maki probed with his mind, scratching at the barrier Hidaig had raised. Its presence worried him. What was he hiding?

  “We don’t have time to search every tunnel and hole, but eventually she’ll have to come out There are more important things to do. My question to you is, do you stand with us this day, or must we throw you into the canyon? I have no desire to constantly watch my back.”

  “I join with you, Hidaig, but Pegre is mine, and I ask you to leave him to me. I will need my weapons.”

  Hidaig thought for a moment, Maki feeling the weak probe, and letting him see hatred there, all seemingly directed at Pegre, and so there was reason for trust. Hidaig ordered Kretan to retrieve Maki’s weapons from the cave, and shortly after the huge warrior reappeared with a fur bundle under one arm.

  The bundle contained the rifle, but the pistol was gone. Pegre, thought Maki. As the others watched him suspiciously, he levered the rifle just enough to see that a projectile was in place. Probing lightly, he could feel the tension and fear all around him as he fingered the weapon.

  “You know how to use this?” asked Hidaig.

  “I have killed Hinchai with it before. Today, I will use it to kill Pegre.” He closed the breech of the rifle with a snap, and looped the weapon across his chest. “I will do it at close range, so I can watch his face when his body explodes.”

  “Such strong feelings for an enemy,” said Hidaig. “I will keep you in front of me today, and if you point that weapon in my direction Kretan will run you through. Those are his orders.”

  The big warrior smiled, and fingered the sharp, stone tip of his spear.

  “I understand,” said Maki, “that I must prove my loyalty to you. You will feel differently at the end of the day.” He hoped that Hidaig would sense only his hatred for Pegre, and not the other feelings he now kept shielded from the probe: his hatred of Hidaig for betrayal, the mixed love and resentment he felt for his parents, and overwhelming guilt for having stood by passively while his father was struck down. But all these things would not have happened without Pegre’s plan to take the Tenanken from the caves, and so he focused the blame on the one who would be his victim this day.

  They moved out in a line, Maki, Kretan and Hidaig bringing up the rear, climbing to the end of the canyon past Baela’s hidey-tree, and close to where both Tenanken and Hinchai had been buried under stone, one remaining there still. Far below them, on the canyon floor, beneath thick pines, beetles and worms began work on the corpses of several old ones and a loyal friend named Han, whom Maki had already forgotten.

  They rounded the end of the canyon, and came back along the other side, past the open entrance of the cave they no longer attempted to hide, because soon there would be nobody left alive to hide it from. They picked their way along the edge until the canyon veered sharply towards the valley, and there they went back into the trees, following them out to a sharp ridge descending to a grassy floor dotted with buildings. Pegre was in one of those buildings. Pegre, and his Hinchai mate. Maki focused on a vision of killing them both.

  Hidaig called them to a halt at the edge of the trees, and there they sat down to watch and wait as the sun rose, turning the valley golden. The buildings were near; it would be a charge of three hundred paces down the ridge and across a field to reach them. There was activity at one building, a door banging and a Hinchai female rushed out with something in her hands, which she deposited into a vehicle before going back inside. When she appeared again there was a big male with her, and they loaded more things into the vehicle.

  “There, you see Pegre,” said Maki. “The other is his Hinchai mate, and she carries his child.” The disgust in his voice was impossible to conceal.

  Hidaig squinted, and looked closely. “So it is. He is not exactly as I remember him, but we were younger then. I see fat from the easy Hinchai life.” He chuckled.

  “Don’t be deceived by sight,” said Maki. “He’s strong, and his spirit is not diminished. Remember, he’s mine.”

  “Yes, yes,” said Hidaig, smiling. “Ah, what have we here?” He pointed to another building, from which a figure had emerged into the sunlight. “They have another child?”

  A young girl with long, blonde hair stretched lazily, bringing slender arms up over her head, then running towards the other building. Maki recognized her immediately. “No, that is one of the Hanken from our band. The rest of them must be in the building she came out of. If we attack now, we might catch most of them asleep.”

  Hidaig shook his head. “Not so fast. I don’t know how many are inside, or the number of males who can fight. Pegre must have at least one pointing weapon, so surprise will have to be the main element of our strategy, and the strike must be swift. If pointing weapons are used against us, our numbers will mean nothing. We will wait until we see who is down there, and exactly where they are. Now, we watch.”

  Hidaig leaned back against a tree, and Kretan squatted on the ground beside him. Maki remained in front of them, sprawled out on his stomach, chin on hands to watch the valley. For a while, there was nothing to see. Baela had gone inside the h
ouse, and it was quiet outside. Sunlight warmed his face, eyelids fluttered, closed. He even dozed.

  The clattering and shouting jolted him wide-awake. He watched the vehicles pull up to the house, bristling with weapons and full of Hinchai males. He turned and looked at Hidaig, who smiled back smugly.

  “If we had attacked a few minutes ago, you see what a nice welcome we would have had? It is a good thing to be patient, and if my guess is right we will soon have no opposition to worry about.”

  In seconds Pegre came out of the house with a weapon, and all the Hinchai males got back into their vehicles. They drove away quickly, and Pegre’s mate went back into the house, closing the door behind her, but in the next few minutes the Tenanken of Maki’s band came one-by-one out of the longer building and walked over to the house, disappearing inside. Maki looked at Hidaig expectantly.

  “Not yet. We want the vehicles far away before we do anything; all those weapons could destroy us in minutes. We can wait. I count five males who can give us any kind of fight, and they might even decide to join us. It’s the females we want, anyway. Patience, Maki. I’m sure that’s a hunting party we saw; they won’t be back before dark, and we’ll be far from here by then.”

  They waited.

  The day grew warmer. Tenanken went back and forth between the house and long building. A few wandered around the fields and visited a wider, higher building some two hundred paces from the house. The structure was unfinished in places, connected to a fenced-in area used to keep animals, though there were none there, now, and the wood was not painted in colors like the other buildings. By early afternoon most of the Tenanken had retired to the long building to sleep, for the heat had become intense, and was a new experience for them. Pegre’s mate appeared a couple of times, hanging clothes and bedding on a line behind the house, but otherwise it was quiet.

  “It is time,” said Hidaig, and Kretan and Maki were immediately on their feet, the rest following more slowly. “Form two lines, equal in numbers,” Hidaig ordered, and the warriors scrambled to obey. “I will lead this group, and attack the house. Kretan, you take the others and occupy the long building. All Tenanken males can choose to join us, or die. Take the females alive if you can, but kill any Hanken in the group. I will not tolerate them in my band. Maki, you go with Kretan and show us you can conduct yourself like a warrior. Your ambition may yet be fulfilled. Are there any questions?”